


Flowers Fall With the Rain

by signalbeam



Series: Flowers Fall With the Rain [1]
Category: Persona 4
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Community: badbadbathhouse, F/F, Not edward cullen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-11
Updated: 2009-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 17:18:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-game. Years later, single, enormously conflicted, and determined to not embarrass herself, Yukiko finds herself pursued by, of all people, Nanako Dojima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers Fall With the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the badbadbathhouse prompt: _Yukiko is lonely. Nanako comes home from university All Grown Up and discovers the sparks of attraction, and while Yukiko is hesitant, mortified at the impropriety (and terrified of what Souji, Dojima, and her friends will think), she does feel attracted to Nanako as well. And Nanako is incredibly persistent._
> 
> I. I don't have any excuses. oh my god.

When Yukiko turned twenty, her parents began worrying about her future. A disinclination towards romance and men was a good thing when one was a teenager, and a terrible thing upon reaching drinking age. Her fling with Souji ended after he left Inaba, and, with that, vanished any interested Yukiko had in dating. After her parents said they were worried, she relented, and agreed to see some of the men her parents set up for her. It went well enough, or as well enough as things went when dating a series of men she had no interest in. The reason for _that_ became clear after carrying out a sordid affair with her boyfriend’s sister for nearly six months. She broke up with both of them over the span of four hours, and told her parents about the entire thing in a hazy blur of drinks over dinner and a desperate wish for a truck to come charging through the wall and kill her where she sat. Now they were all pretending it had never happened, only with the added bonus of agreeing to never bring it up again. And the agreement to never set her up with anyone. And the agreement that if she should have an inclination towards women, then she would not carry out those inclinations at the inn.

Now that the inn was hers, she still didn’t particularly care for romance. She had more pressing things to worry about: her friends, her business, her family. Granted, Chie had her boyfriends—well, fiancé, now—and the business wasn’t quite as fulfilling as she thought it’d be, and the family—the family was the family. She hadn’t brought anyone back to the inn in years, and even Chie was beginning to sound a little worried. “Really?” Chie asked, sounding almost comically bemused. “ _No one_?”

This was followed up by a call from Rise with a list of gay bars in the city, which had been a nice gesture, but not such a helpful one once it turned out that all of the bars Rise recommended catered almost exclusively to gay men.

She was happy enough as things were. She kept insisting this, even as Rise took Yukiko to one of the clubs with her posse of gay men.

“Oh, senpai,” Rise said as psychedelic music and lights throbbed and hummed and boomed (even the lights—these clubs were… they were something) around them. “You’re not happy at all. Don’t think that I can’t tell.”

“I,” Yukiko said, and then averted her eyes as a man laid down on a table and consented to having a drink splashed all over his body. Another man licked the alcohol off his body. Her jaw dropped.

“It’s kind of my fault, for not pointing you in the right direction… But it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think this is really…” Well, she was drinking, and that always made things a little more pleasant. Even if she couldn’t always remember them at the end of the day. Or ever. What a nice way to avoid regrets, and create whole new ones.

“That’s it,” Rise said. “You’re asking out the next girl I see. If there are any.”

“Rise-chan—”

“I see some! Ooh, she looks like a real cutie. Is she your type?”

“I don’t see her anywhere.”

“Over there,” Rise said, pointing over to the corner of the club where a bunch of college-aged girls were sitting in a circle. “The cute one,” Rise clarified, which wasn’t helpful, because they were all pretty cute. Yukiko wanted to drop a table on herself for thinking it, but they _were_ at a gay bar, even if it wasn’t quite the right kind of gay bar. “No, not _that_ one,” Rise said, with a roll of her eyes. “I mean the one in the ponytail, alone over there. The one who’s been making ‘come hither’ eyes at you all night.”

“I don’t know if I have a type—”

“You didn’t notice at all?” Rise said. “Wow. No wonder you have trouble finding a date. Go, senpai, go! I’ll be right here!”

“But,” Yukiko said. She wanted to finish the sentence with, “I’m not nearly drunk enough to be hitting on college-aged girls,” but Rise had summoned one of her posse over to forcibly drag Yukiko away from the table before she could say anything. The girl was right there. College-aged, with the ponytail, and a blouse with the first two buttons undone. Yukiko felt as though she was violating a law, but the girl was _tall_ and lean and muscled, and looked as though she could run for miles. It wasn’t the kind of strength that normally drew Yukiko in—Chie’s raw power, her ex-boyfriend’s sister’s emotional stability, other, smaller kinds of strengths that called to her like flame to a moth, but it was a strength of sorts. If not an open flame, then an ember. Or a handful of embers. Or like a campfire put out, but ready to start again at a second’s notice.

“Um.” Then she was at the table with the girl and—and Yukiko sat down across from the girl, smiled, and said, “Is anyone sitting here?”

“My two friends over there just hooked up with some other guys,” said the girl. Young woman. Young woman. The self-hypnosis wasn’t working. It was absolutely maddening. And on top of that, Yukiko had _seen_ this girl before. Something about the girl looked familiar, even through the hideous, flashing music and loud, obnoxious light. Yukiko hoped that this wasn't someone's little sister. “They’re not going to be back for _days_.”

“For days? It must be difficult on you,” Yukiko said. She caught Rise’s eye from across the room. Rise brought an imaginary glass to her lips, and mouthed, ‘offer her something to drink.’ Yukiko pulled her most pleasant smile and said, “Could I buy you a drink?”

There was a little pause, in which the girl stared at Yukiko and said, “Um,” which threw Yukiko off, because really, _she_ was supposed to be the confused one, not the girl. The girl coughed a little nervously. Then she said, “You don’t recognize me at all, Yukiko-san?”

Yukiko stared. That seemed to be the ‘no’ the other person was waiting for.

“It’s me,” said the girl. “Nanako Dojima? I mean, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been to Inaba and the inn because of college, but it’s me. You don’t have to treat me like a stranger.”

Yukiko hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to make this scenario okay.

 

\---

 

She wound up taking Nanako back home, but not in the way that Rise probably wanted her to. Nanako seemed amused by the entire affair. She didn’t look much like Souji at all—not surprising, they were only cousins—but there was a confident, light air to her that put Yukiko at ease and made the entire affair marginally less embarrassing. That didn’t change that she had been eyeballing Souji-kun’s sister. That didn’t change that she had been thinking about taking off Nanako’s _shirt_ and bra and putting her hand on Nanako’s knee and palming her way up to the junction of the legs, and then push inwards and not stop until she was done.

“So you were there with Rise-chan?” Nanako was saying as Yukiko tried to pretend that she was a good driver. “I’m not surprised she’d be there, but seeing you there was…”

“Rise-chan suggested that I ‘pick up some chicks,’” Yukiko said, distracted by, of all things, how Nanako preferred calling Rise “Rise-chan” instead of “Rise-san.” And not at all by the two buttons, left undone, on Nanako’s shirt. “Or, as Teddie might say, go scoring.”

Nanako laughed, as though it was a great joke. Yukiko’s stomach lightened, like it was floating in suspension. She was smiling. Her face was heating. She might as well ask Dojima-san to arrest her right now. “I don’t think you’d have any trouble with that, Yukiko-san.”

“I wasn’t in the right venue,” Yukiko said.

“Well, you found me there, so the odds aren’t _too_ bad,” said Nanako, with a purr in her voice that Yukiko was sure she was just imagining. Yukiko laughed, and then forced herself to stop. No. She couldn’t get carried away. This was _Nanako_. And she did not want to die this young. But she didn't feel young now. “Maybe we could meet up again? Catch up on the old times?”

The words, “That would be nice” slipped right out of Yukiko’s mouth before she could stop them.

“Great,” Nanako said. “I’ll give you a call later. Um, I don’t think I have your number, so…” The Dojima house was right ahead. Yukiko put the car in park, and wrote down her number. When she passed the note to Nanako, a little part of her wanted to take Nanako’s hand and hold it. Nanako’s fingers curled around the back of her hand, and Yukiko bit down on a little gasp. Nanako smiled, and said, “I had a nice time with you tonight, Yukiko-san.”

They were in Dojima's driveway. She was just a few meters from Dojima and Souji, sleeping in their rooms, and then Nanako was so close. Up She didn’t look like a child at all, not with her cheekbones high and free of the roundness that Yukiko thought was still there, but was not any longer. Not when she moved like a woman, and kissed like one, too, right on the mouth, hungry yet chaste, all at once.

When Nanako pulled back, Yukiko wrapped her hand around Nanako’s head, and gave her a deeper, stronger kiss, and then, breathing deeply, said, “You should. You should go.”

With a move that Nanako _had_ to have picked up from Souji, she kissed the side of Yukiko’s mouth before stepping out of the car with a cat-like grin.

“I’ll call you later tonight,” Nanako said.

Yukiko felt a strangled groan, rising up in her chest, halfway between “I’ll look forward to it” and “please never see me again.” She couldn’t run from Nanako, not when Inaba was five thousand people, at the most. Not when Nanako knew where she lived. Knew her phone number, and knew where she worked. She was trapped like a fox in a steel cage, with the hounds at the door.

The first thing Yukiko did after returning home was toss her phone somewhere where she couldn’t see it, and set the shower as cold as she could make it.

 

\---

 

One kiss. Three, if she was being honest and accurate. She had only been humoring Nanako. And Nanako wasn’t really flirting with her. Nanako was eighteen. Maybe nineteen. Not even of drinking age. Nanako had no business kissing a woman ten years her elder—no. _Yukiko_ had no business kissing a girl ten years younger than her. She still remembered Nanako as an elementary schooler and a middle schooler and a high schooler: safely locked up in uniform, too young to touch or look at, even idly. The only thing that happened the night before was that Yukiko had gotten a little tipsy, and Nanako responded to that by letting her know that getting drinks late at night was a bad idea. The next time she saw Nanako, she could put everything behind her and catch up with her in a purely platonic way.

Nanako dashed those plans by showed up at the Amagi inn wearing an outfit not entirely dissimilar to the one she had worn the night before. Button down shirt. Skirt. Tights. Hair done in an up-do.

“What do you think, Yukiko-san?” Nanako said.

“Do you dress like that every day?” Yukiko said, immediately averting her eyes and trying to stop the blood from rushing to her face.

“Only on special occasions.” Then, almost conceitedly, she said, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Nanako-chan,” Yukiko said. There were so many things wrong with this, but strangely enough, that almost seemed to be a turn-on. Most of her relationships seemed to start off like that: seducing her boyfriend’s sister, an ill-fated year-long fling with a girl who was technically engaged, dating her friend’s ex. "Sex with your ex-boyfriend and leader's legal little sister" seemed right up her alley.

Nanako leaned close, all eager, youthful sexuality and good humor.

“You should go home now,” Yukiko said. “I’m busy now.”

“You don’t look busy.” She emphasized that by sidling up to Yukiko, so close that Yukiko was dizzy with Nanako’s warmth on her arm.

“I’m busy. Dojima-san.”

“So is it okay if I come by later tonight?”

“Please come back tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Okay? Was that it? Yukiko, despite herself, felt a twinge of disappointment. “How about a goodbye kiss?”

Yukiko turned her face away and said, “Please leave.”

Nanako looked almost hurt. Yukiko felt terrible for that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said.

 

\---

 

Yukiko knew that her resolve wouldn’t last very long. It never did. When she wanted something, she took measures to attain it, and in a contest between getting something she wanted and denying herself that same thing, the ‘go get it’ side always won out. There was hardly any point in pretending she wouldn’t cave in and ravish Nanako Dojima in the back room of the inn in two month’s time except to torture herself. Self-flagellation wouldn’t make anything better. Given enough time, she would also be sitting in Chie’s kitchen and trying to drown herself into drunken oblivion.

Nanako came back. Of course she did. She dressed in all sorts of outfits until she found one that made Yukiko’s brain grind to a halt, and mouth hang open like an idiot. Then she started coming to the inn dressed in that kind of outfit all the time, and staying for longer and longer until Yukiko knew that she was no longer fighting a battle: she had retreated from the field and was cowardly hiding until she could make arrangements to surrender or eliminate herself from the battle altogether. Yukiko took half a day off from working at the inn to go to Tatsumi Textiles. Maybe she could convince Kanji to persuade Naoki to give her enough alcohol to induce instant liver failure.

“Um,” she said once Kanji calmed her down a bit. “There’s been a, ah, an incident.” She gestured, vaguely, in the air in what she hoped looked marginally put together, but in fact, made her feel like a wreck of a human being.

“Can’t be that bad, senpai,” Kanji said. “Ain’t like your parents are gonna get too worked up about it.”

“It’s the person,” Yukiko said. “The person who keeps visiting. And, and, I thought that since you and Naoto-kun were very good at frustrating yourselves…”

“H-hey! I-it wasn’t like that!”

“Oh! I’m sorry. What was it like, then?”

“Well—it was—it was…” Kanji’s brow furrowed. “Y-yeah, it was. Exactly like that.”

“I need some way to talk about dealing with. This situation. Because the person. The person is… Is not someone I should be attracted to.”

“It isn’t Yosuke-senpai, is it?” Kanji said.

“… No,” Yukiko said. Her mind made a strangled, little noise.

“Chie-senpai?”

“It’s not someone from our circle,” she said. Technically. “She’s… she’s not. I’m sure she’s interested in women. But her age... she's young.”

“How young we talkin’ ‘bout here, senpai?”

“Eighteen.”

“She in high school?”

“College student. First summer out of university.” Yukiko strummed her fingers against the counter, and then forced her fingers to lay flat. “I’ve known her for several years, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, and now she’s… She’s very…”

“Yeah,” Kanji said. He rubbed his beard. Then he said, “I say go for it, senpai. She’s old enough to make her own choices and mistakes and shit. And so are you. I mean, ain’t like there’s gonna be any harm in tryin’ it. Looks young?”

Yukiko didn't want to think about it. “Sometimes.”

“Well,” Kanji said, “don’t worry, senpai. Ain’t like you make bad decisions.”

She shouldn’t have gone to Kanji. Not only was he weakening her resolve, but if she told him that it was Nanako, he'd go into shock, and then Yukiko would have to go to Naoto, who would draw up a cost-benefit analysis, and who knew where that would lead. No, she knew perfectly well where that would lead. Yukiko didn't care if it would be a good thing or not. She'd do it. And Naoto would tell Souji, who would tell Dojima, and that would be the end of it for everyone. Or at least, the end of the line for Yukiko.

“Hey, senpai,” Kanji said. “You still look freaked out.”

Her fingers drummed against the table again. “I’m,” she said. “I’m uncertain.”

“Talk to Chie-senpai,” Kanji said. “That’ll be better, won’t it?”

Yukiko didn’t know. She rarely talked with Chie about romance. Confessing her feelings for Chie all those years ago had left an awkward blemish on their friendship.

“Yukiko-san.” Yukiko flinched, recognizing both the voice and the tone. Nanako stepped into Tatsumi Textiles, dressed sharply, and with a jaunty, cheery grin that made Yukiko’s jaw clench. “Hi, Kanji-san,” Nanako said. “I was here looking for Yukiko.”

“Yeah?” Kanji said, grinning fondly. He went right over to her and wrapped an arm around her. Yukiko choked on her own air. “Need her for something?”

“I wanted to spend some time with her,” Nanako said. “Are the two of you still talking?”

“Nah, we were just wrappin’ up. Tell Souji-senpai hi for me.”

“Will do.” Nanako looked to Yukiko expectantly. Yukiko closed her eyes, and forced herself to breathe through the nose. Kanji was touching Nanako. Kanji was touching Nanako. Fully within his right. _She_ was the one who had no business, even coming within ten meters of Nanako Dojima. No right to be anywhere near something that she would take until it couldn’t be anything else except hers. “Yukiko-san?”

“I’m going back to the inn,” she said.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“Your house isn’t on the way.”

“I don’t mind,” Nanako said. “As long as it is with you. If you’re going with someone you want to get to know better, then any time you spend with them is worth the inconvenience. That’s what I think, at least. And even though I’ve known you for a long time, we haven’t had the time to connect in a different way. As adults.”

Yukiko wanted to laugh at that. As adults. She didn’t feel like much of one. Not the kind of adult that Nanako wanted to be. Not the kind of adult she needed to be.

“We’ve been talking for a while now,” she said.

“Well, we should talk more.” Nanako, with a tilt of her head, adjusted her cuffs, and said, “You can’t stop me from following you, either.”

“No,” Yukiko agreed. She stood. “I’ll see you again, Kanji-kun.”

“Good luck, senpai,” Kanji said. Yukiko had the strangest feeling as though that was meant to apply to her life, in general.

 

\---

 

“So,” Nanako said, “I was thinking we could stop for some food.”

“We shouldn’t,” Yukiko said.

“Why not? Are you worried about paying? If we stop by Aiya’s and wait for it to rain, then—”

“I mean,” she said, “that we shouldn’t. We shouldn’t do anything. It isn’t appropriate.”

Nanako looked over at Yukiko thoughtfully. Then she said, “I don’t see why you’re so worked up about. One of my friends dated a thirty-two year old guy for a while.”

Yukiko laughed, short and sharp. “I’m not that kind of person,” she said.

“It’s not illegal,” Nanako said.

That was supposed to make Yukiko feel better? As though a decade could be shrugged off like it didn’t matter? She covered her mouth and nose with her hand. “No,” she said. “I’m not interested. I’m not interested in this.”

“Then why did you kiss me?”

“I had too much to drink.”

“You kissed me because you were attracted to me,” Nanako said. “And because you knew that I’m not too young for you. I think you should give me a chance. Dad and big bro will be happy with anything that makes me happy.”

“Will they?” Yukiko said. She smiled, bitterly. She couldn’t imagine Dojima letting this slide. Souji, too, would probably banish her, unofficially. The inn would be destroyed. Or maybe nothing would change. Everything would be the same, after a little bit of a mix-up.

“You don’t have anything to lose,” Nanako said, with a goofy, hopeful smile. She looked, Yukiko thought with a sudden ache, remarkably like her father in this attire. Button-up shirt, open just enough to offer a hint of what might be waiting underneath if Yukiko reached out and took what was offered. Red tie. Hair pulled back messily, the kind of messy that was deliberate and begged for Yukiko to run her hand through it and fix it. A skirt with a slit that occasionally let slip a glimpse of nylon-covered leg. Breathe, Yukiko reminded herself. She didn’t enjoy this. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want it. She had no interest in Nanako, even if she had gone through the trouble of picking out a nice kimono for her trip to Tatsumi Textiles, putting makeup on, making herself look good just in case she ran into Nanako. She was being silly, no better than a teenager, blind to consequence and blind to sense.

“ _You_ don’t have anything to lose,” Yukiko replied. “You’re young. People will forgive your mistakes. They won’t forgive mine.”

“Who cares what they think?” Nanako said. She tugged at her tie, impatiently, and said, “Yukiko-san, I’m not someone you have to rescue.”

“I don’t think of you like that,” Yukiko said, and tried to keep herself from staring at Nanako’s neck.

“But that’s how you treat me,” Nanako said. “Like I’m a princess in a tower, or something precious that you need to—” She made a face, and almost spat out the next word, “— _protect_.” Then she looked at Yukiko and said, “If you don’t feel that way, then prove it to me.”

They were at the bus stop now.

Nanako was young. She didn’t know what she was asking for. She didn’t know what she wanted. Yukiko knew what she wanted, she knew the consequences, all of them.

“Maybe you are someone who needs to be protected,” Yukiko said. And maybe Yukiko could be a princess again, the cataclysmic kind who wore the mask of a good princess, but brought with her a wreck of emotional ruin hidden in the folds of her dress. The kind of princess who made children adults. The kind who knew what adulthood meant, and would push people into new places. Her hands trembled. And despite herself, she brought them to Nanako’s shoulders. “Maybe,” Yukiko said, “you're too young to know what you want.”

Nanako blinked, once, twice. Her lips parted, ever-so-slightly. What would be better: to be seduced, or to be the seducer? She didn’t want to be either of those. "If you can't start this," she said, "then I will.”

Nanako leaned in. Yukiko reached up, caught Nanako’s face in her hands. She could have let go. She could have let go, but she didn’t. Her hands went into Nanako’s hair, pulled it out of the ponytail. Ran her hand through it, marveling at the texture and the mingling coolness of the air and the heat of Nanako’s skin. Her other hand grabbed onto the tie, tugging it loose. Made of wool, with a good weight to it. Red, too. Yukiko wondered how much of it was because of Dojima, and how much of it was because of her and how much of it was Nanako’s choice. How much of it was because Nanako noticed how much red Yukiko wore herself. She let the hand in Nanako’s hair drop down, trace the line of Nanako’s shoulder and neck, then drifted down, dragging lines across the starched shirt, and stopping just short at the waistband of the skirt.

The bus pulled in. Yukiko let Nanako go, and then, with a final tug, removed the necktie. She wrapped the tie around her hand and said, “I’ll keep this for you. Until later.”

And then she left before she could process what she had done.

 

\---

 

Nanako knew this wasn’t really her best idea. After all, her first shot at trying to get Yukiko Amagi into bed ended with her embarrassing herself at a bus stop. There was no reason for her to think that her second wouldn’t end with Yukiko throwing Nanako out into the streets. Okay, so she was young and maybe a little dumb and not necessarily rational, but she didn’t think that it meant that she shouldn’t try.

She went to the Amagi Inn, and said, “I’m here to pick up my tie.”

Yukiko looked at her with the same, strained expression she always did.

“Where is it?” Nanako said. She leaned in, drew her elbows together, and said, “Is it up your sleeve?”

“It’s in my room,” Yukiko said, which could have been an invitation, but probably wasn’t. “Why don’t you get it?”

Definitely an invitation, then, Nanako thought.

“It’s in the far side of the inn,” Yukiko said. “You’ll know it when you see it. The door’s still open.”

“Are you sure?” Nanako said.

“Yes.”

“All right, then,” said Nanako, and grinned. “Got you.”

The inn’s halls could have gone on forever. She didn’t know if she should turn back and look to see if Yukiko was following her. She didn’t know if she wanted to be followed. A part of her desperately did: a part of her desperately wanted for Yukiko to follow her all the way to her bedroom, pin her down to the bed, and do something, anything.

Even though it was early in the afternoon, the clouds were dark and heavy with rain and the promise of fog. The room was dark in the day, grey and foreboding. The tie was there, as promised: folded and clean, on top of Yukiko’s futon. Nanako bent down to take the tie, and fingered the fabric of the futon. Something electric burst into her spine. She bit it down, trying to not get her hopes up. One step at a time. One step.

The door close behind her. Nanako, despite herself, yelped.

“You scared me,” she said, turning to face Yukiko. Red kimono today: red with yellow and white birds cutting across the fabric.

“You’ve been very reckless,” Yukiko said. “You came into my room knowing what I might do.” She went over to the desk, and sat at it. “Nanako-san, you know why this cannot happen.”

“Because I’m young?” Nanako said.

“Because I’m afraid.”

“You’re one of the bravest people I’ve met,” Nanako said. “If you’re using fear as an excuse, then—”

“Being brave isn’t about not being scared. Bravery is conquering fear, and making use of it for other things. People who aren’t afraid aren’t thinking.” She said all of that with a flat affect. Her hair hung darkly from her head, and though it did not cover her face, it might as well have been a barrier between the two of them, as solid and tangible as any stone or wall. “I don’t know what your intentions are, and I don’t know if I want to know. For all I know, you might think of me as some kind of challenge. Something for you to conquer and something to fix, and something to go back to college and brag about to your friends. You can’t prove your sincerity to me, and you won’t convince me, even if you try.”

Nanako walked over to Yukiko. Yukiko stood. Nanako stretched out her hand, and fingered the edge of the kimono. Yukiko folded her hands onto Nanako’s, and then undid the obi. Nanako’s breath caught, halfway from an exhale. There were shadows of many, light, strange scars along her body: not nearly as many as her brother’s, but they were there, and eerily visible. Not nearly as soft-looking as Nanako had anticipated. Bony, and just as pale. Starkly sinewy and feminine, and unexpectedly strong.

“I’m not the kind of person who would do that to you.”

Measured, even breathing. Nanako could see the ribs, expanding, and then holding. “How do you know?”

“Because I liked you even before I _liked_ you,” she said. “And I’m not a braggart.”

Yukiko’s hand ran along the collar of Nanako’s shirt. “You probably thought that I would come around eventually,” she said, so visibly torn between two ends that Nanako didn’t know if Yukiko was coming around, or if Yukiko managed to stonewall herself. The breathing quickened, became erratic and shallow. She let out a shaking, long breath; brought a hand to her face, and covered it. Then she undid a button of Nanako’s shirt, and then another, and another. “You probably thought I’d come around eventually,” she repeated. “And you were right.”

Nanako couldn’t stand it anymore. She nearly threw the shirt onto the ground, and undid the clasp of her bra. Yukiko had her hand on Nanako’s arm again, and Nanako stopped moving, unsure of what to do. There was a long moment where Nanako could see Yukiko making choices in her head, and then giving up. She brought her lips to Nanako’s neck, and kissed it. The contact made Nanako’s heart freeze in place, then start up again, twice, thrice as fast. Everything Yukiko touched buzzed and hummed with an electric fire. Yukiko’s hands were casting aside Nanako’s bra, Yukiko’s hands were in her hair, lips on her breast and silk between her legs. The hands disappeared for a second, but the mouth was still there, tongue and lips and teeth pressing hotly against her skin, and—and—

And Nanako caught a glimpse of yellow and white birds hitting the ground and vanishing into the red, a glimpse of white limbs emerging from the cloth, and Yukiko there, every bit as split as she had ever been, every bit as uncertain, but still pressing forward. Her hands were on Nanako’s back, pressing, hard, into the skin.

“Yukiko-san,” she said. Yukiko looked up, and then wrapped her lips around Nanako’s nipple. “I—mnn…” Her words vanished into a moan. Yukiko’s other hand circled back around to Nanako’s front, taking the other nipple and twisting it, just enough for it to be a little painful. Nanako’s skirt was slipping off, and she was all too eager to be rid of it. With one hand, she kept Yukiko’s head in place, and with the other, shimmied out of the skirt. Yukiko’s other hand was working down Nanako’s torso, sliding down all the way to the knee, and then back up, this time between the legs.

“Do it,” Nanako said, squirming. “ _Do it_.”

Yukiko smiled, and then curled her hand around the back of Nanako’s legs.

“Get onto the floor,” she said, and Nanako nearly dropped straight down. The nylons were torn off and cast aside. Yukiko's head lowered between Nanako’s legs, her long, dark hair pooling about her like a shadow, heavy and black. Nanako whimpered in anticipation.

 

\---

 

Yukiko knew she should have felt sorrier and guiltier. Maybe unhappier. She wasn’t feeling much of anything. She was resting in a bed with a girl too young for her, a girl who trusted her more than she deserved. All she felt was a burning thirst for a jolt of forgetfulness and excuses to eat her up and take her away. Her eyes had grown too big for her stomach, and now she was bursting. Her stomach was pushing against her heart. Outside, the rain came down in a soft spray. Outside, the grey clouds were drifting through the sky. Behind the clouds, the sun was setting into the west, and the moon was rising on pale, shaky legs to meet the night. Someone would find them soon. She sank into the futon and covered her eyes. Regrets could wait another day.


End file.
